Raymond's footsteps echoed down the corridor—heavy, deliberate, impossible to ignore. The laughter from Havinsson's study cut off abruptly.
He stopped at the open doorway. Didn't enter. Just stood there, eyes narrowed, taking in the scene.
Bright room. Spacious. Havinsson sat across from a short, fat man, both of them settled into plush sofas. Between the city lord's fingers, something smoldered—a thin cylinder, trailing pale smoke.
When Havinsson recognized who stood in his doorway, the flash of irritation vanished from his face. He rose, arms spread wide, voice booming with exaggerated welcome: "Ha! My friend has come! Please, enter!"
The fat man across from him didn't move. His face was patchy with white spots, like old sun damage. He sat frozen, staring at Raymond with cold eyes.
Havinsson's irritation had disappeared too quickly. But Raymond caught it—that flicker of something in his gaze before the mask dropped. Satisfaction.
Raymond waited until Havinsson reached him, arms still spread for an embrace. Then he stepped back.
"You have a guest," Raymond said flatly. "I'll return another time."
He turned to leave.
"Wait!" Havinsson's voice carried a note of panic. "Master Raymond, please—today's guest is actually connected to you! Please, stay!"
The honorific was back. Master Raymond. Raymond's eyes narrowed further, but he turned around, smile firmly in place, and allowed himself to be ushered inside.
The fat man's expression had darkened considerably since Raymond's dramatic entrance. He watched the young man settle into a nearby chair, then spoke.
"Havinsson. This is your 'great lord'? He's young."
Raymond ignored the tone completely. His attention had fixed on something else—a wooden box on the table, exquisitely crafted, radiating a rich fragrance. Inside, golden leaves the size of palms lay stacked neatly. Beside the box sat a small, delicate candle holder.
He picked up one of the leaves, turning it over curiously. "What's this?"
Havinsson's face flickered with embarrassment. "Ah—that arrived from the east. They say burning it clears the mind and sharpens the senses." He held up the smoldering cylinder between his fingers, clearly hoping to redirect attention. "Eastern merchants intended this as a gift for the King of Orjaso. I managed to... acquire a portion for myself. Would you care to try?"
Raymond lifted a golden leaf from the box, sniffed it, then dropped it back carelessly. "Interesting," he said, settling deeper into his chair. "Pity the storage and preparation are completely wrong."
He sighed dramatically. Then, finally, he turned his gaze to the fat man.
Who was now purple with rage, breathing hard through flared nostrils.
Havinsson scrambled to bridge the widening gap. He introduced them formally—the fat man was Olin, a first-level apprentice and assistant to Master Bamo of Black River Valley.
Olin, still purple, shot to his feet. "Enough talk!" he barked, slamming a black box onto the table with a clatter. "Master Bamo sent me to test your level. Get on with it!"
Raymond's smile didn't waver. But something in his eyes shifted.
He rose slowly. Stared at the black box. Then at Olin.
"Master Bamo of Black River Valley," Raymond said, each word precise and cold, "raised a disciple with such poor manners? Shall I teach you basic courtesy?"
Olin's purple face went nearly black. His lips trembled. His hand twitched as if to point, to accuse—but the hand never rose.
Havinsson's practiced smile froze. His eyes went wide, reassessing the young man before him.
Silence filled the study.
Raymond's pupils flickered red—chip active. Data scrolled across his vision.
"Analysis complete. Subject: Olin, adult male. Strength 1.3, Agility 0.9, Stamina 1.1. Status: weakened."
Raymond's smile returned. He turned to leave.
Behind him, Olin choked on his rage—then stepped back. Bowed. Placed his right hand over his heart.
"Honored Wizard," he forced out, each word an effort, "I am Olin, first-level apprentice of Black River Valley Academy. I offer my respects."
Raymond settled back into his chair, flicking a dismissive hand. "Accepted."
Olin's face cycled through several colors. He breathed deeply—once, twice, three times—then pushed the black box across the table toward Raymond.
The explanation came out clipped, controlled. Master Bamo oversaw wizard apprentice selection for the entire western coast. When word reached him of a young man wearing a third-level apprentice badge in Kaiton, he'd been... eager. He'd sent Olin with a testing stone to verify Raymond's level.
Olin opened the box. Inside lay a white stone.
"Only after passing the Black River Valley test will your apprentice status be officially recognized," Olin said flatly. "Based on your level, the Academy's doors will open to you. You'll receive all corresponding rights and privileges."
Raymond picked up a golden leaf from the box. Toyed with it. Let the silence stretch.
Then: "Rights and privileges." He glanced up. "What obligations come with them?"
Olin's control cracked. His eyes went red-rimmed. "Don't push your luck, boy! Master Bamo doesn't fear some hidden teacher!"
Raymond snorted. He rose, not even glancing at the seething Olin. Turned to Havinsson instead.
"I came to see your family's library," he said calmly. "May I?"